Trials and Abrogations
by pink-cherry-005
Summary: Vendra wants freedom, Talwyn wants answers. Ratchet wants compliance, and Qwark wants all the credit. When the Progs willingly turn themselves in, it's not so simple to just throw them in for life.
1. Prologue: Sealed

Trials and Abrogations

_Prologue: Sealed_

_"It's been about ten years since my last diary entry. Why not just pick up where you left off?" _

As Vendra Prog moves her hands to adjust her camera to her face, chains rattle out of focus.

From the receiving end, it looks like she is in isolation and secrecy, updating an invisible audience on her incarceration. But there are eyes - busy, yet trembling ones that make bets on the extent of her power - that oversee her from the ceiling cameras camouflaged in the opaque walls. She's sure they're watching, but she refuses to give these fools the satisfaction of containing her.

_"My location is Cell 9971 in the Meridian City Penitentiary. It didn't take the warders long to get me settled in."_

Everyone can take a breather; her powers, _for now_, are depleted. Even she is unsure when, or even how they'll return, but she hasn't clung to the idea that they're gone forever. If the guards are going to jump the gun for even the smallest shedding of pink static, they're wasting their time.

In the meanwhile, she thinks she'll entertain them with a prison diary. Something for them to look forward to, like a new holovision show, while they run their shifts.

When she was outside of the Penitentiary a few hours ago, it displayed a dome-shaped corporation in off-white marble and cyan glass; hidden beneath were twenty stories of underground imprisonment, each holding 500 cells. For the occasional bank robber, one could be placed in the floors just beneath the soil; for the conductor of genocide, one could stand and almost feel the heat of the planet's core. For kidnapping, summoning a vicious beast, as well as being "completely insane," Vendra had already figured she'd sit somewhere in between.

Cell 9971 exists on the lowest full floor with Cells 9499-9999 out of 10000. The Mentally Insane Floor, she hears some of the inmates, who snarl her a welcome, whisper so contagiously.

As she was escorted, cuffed, to her cell, shrill voices hooted excitedly at the unseen face - her face, poised yet stricken with annoyance. Hands stretched as far as they could to reach her, touch her, steal the warmth of the sunlight she felt on her way here, stroke the freshly pressed fabric compared to their own jaded jumpsuits. One particular female prisoner, whose face and arms gave the impression that she'd skipped several meals, locked eyes with Vendra and then fainted. Those incarcerated longer, though no less often than she, must have thrived off of newness dragged down from the surface of the world to the point of delirium.

Her new home has had some seniority: the rubber mattress has scratches and an overused dip in its middle; once-white walls are now slathered with red-rusted stains and stagnant mold; the bars that were gripped so often seemed to have shrunken and tarnished; the low ceiling has unbreakable webbed cracks along its middle; and the squat desk offered next to an equally small toilet is where she records her holo-diary.

Vendra turns her wrists within the thick chains and pans her camera around the little room twilit from the dusty floodlight. _"Isn't this room lovely? __I've been stuck in a proton field for six months, so I can't be disappointed with it._"

The camera is pulled back to her now grinning face. "_They've even given me a nice costume..." _Vendra shows the sleeves of her orange jumpsuit; the oversized material wilts around her forearms. She zooms in her camera toward her collar and points to the stitched identification number: 9971. _"They're addressing prisoners by number as if lightning will strike if they say my name."_ She shrugs._ "Once my powers return, it would fun to give them a little scare once in a while."_

Her wrists have become sore and heavy. With a tired sigh, she rests them on either side of her crossed legs.

_"Looking for my brother, huh?"_ she continues to her invisible audience._ "Too bad. They've taken Neftin somewhere else...probably on the more breathable floors of the penitentiary..."_

Though she doesn't say it, she hopes he is close. The separation had hit her almost to the point of convulsing; he protected her, and they've taken away her shield. She's literally powerless and wants to punish all who've stolen it from her.

Her mind begins racing, tracing back to the recent events that start to razz her again. Her eyebrows narrow to where they almost touch, her scowl deep and seething. A hiss nearly escapes.

_"Neftin...That moronic, blabber-mouthed __**fool! **__Doesn't he know when to shut up?!"_

Her fists are balled and as they loosen, a tiny pink crackle flickers from her fingers, making the chains flash briefly. _Are they watching?_

_"They know more now: about us, what we did. Soon they'll take this to court and get the entire galaxy involved again. Reporters, the Polaris Defense Force, they all will stick to this place like leeches, begging like dogs for more answers."_

* * *

"You're not gonna like jail, you know. All those eyes, judging the two of us - Hey!"

Neftin hoisted his rambling sister higher over his shoulder, bumping her head into tree branches free of their glass bulbs, which were shattered during the fighting. Seriously, why did this planet encase their tree branches as if they would-

A pile of wilting sticks and quickly decaying red-orange leaves came down in a heap within Vendra's hair; ones that missed plopped onto the street. She shook her head to release the twigs, and again as she heard her brother snickering in front of her.

"Sorry," he said, Vendra huffing in response. Neftin's large feet pulverized the scattered glass as he trudged on. His grip around the back of Vendra's waist tightened a bit. "And quit your complaining. I'm not changing my mind about this. Surrendering was the only way Ratchet was going to help you escape the Netherverse. I know I wasn't in there to feel your anguish, but, being twins, I kind of naturally do. We both know that the Netherverse won't welcome us home...ever."

Vendra felt rather than saw Neftin's shoulders slump, like an elevator dropping before halting in place. Her fingers drummed against his thick back, and her eyes wandered toward the yellowing sky. She wanted to deter her thoughts from _That Place_, the Nethers, Mr. Eye...

For a few moments, Vendra watched birds fly around the smoke receding from the extinguished fires. _Freedom is far away once again._ Her eyes continued to gaze across the sky until she saw a large green ship eclipse the evening sun, circling around like a hawk over field mice, until it touched down toward her and Neftin.

The ramp didn't lower to reveal the pilot first; instead, a crackled squeak surrounded through its intercom, sending ground birds skyward and squawking.

"Testing one, two, three? This thing on?" The words echoed through the quiet city street.

"Yes...uh, Qwark," Neftin answered.

A throat was cleared rather theatrically. "Space criminals Vendra and Neftin Prog, your reign of terror has reached its end!"

Vendra rolled her eyes. _Qwark, _just another buffoon from the Polaris Defense Force.

"I, former-President Copernicus Qwark, have stepped forward as the sole representative of Polaris Defense - while the rest retire lazily to their living quarters - to ensure that your surrender is officially carried out! Behold, your infamous transport vessel to nearby imprisonment! Now, step into my office, become behind bars, and await for court to decide your fate!"

Vendra scoffed, shaking her head. "Ugh, Mr. Eye would've loved to eat _him_."

A ramp lowered down, flashing orange lights lining the edges. Neftin placed his foot over it.

"Wait," Vendra demanded, Neftin pausing. "You're not serious, are you?"

"Qwark's already seen us. And I already told you, this is what we're doing. Let's go."

With no room or strength to escape, Vendra sighed and sunk against her brother.

The wide backseat was more of a cargo hold for the twins. There was a rear-view glass paneling and a door to the cockpit; no seats were built along the bumpy grey walls. Neftin finally trusted Vendra enough to lower her to her feet. The second he did, he regretted it; she grabbed his face and squeezed with all of her strength, albeit much weaker, pulling him down to her eye level.

"_Why _were you so quick to listen to that space rat?! Because of you, I am headed off to jail _again!_"

She mushed his face for all it was worth until Neftin halted her hands as firmly as his gargantuan ones could without crushing. Porcelain faces continued to argue within inches of each other.

"I told you! I couldn't save you any other way!"

"I didn't need _any _of _them _to save me!"

"Then what? Did you want to stay in the Netherverse? Was it really where you wanted to be, Vendra? Trapped, _betrayed_, frightened?!"

"Are you doing this because you feel you owe them a _favor? _For blowing up a ship and killing two _stupid_ old warbots?"

"Hello?" an awkward voice interrupted, stepping into the cargo hold timidly. "Is this a bad time to disturb a family meeting?"

Levitation was the norm for the space witch now only able stomp toward the annoying green stalk, who began to cower like a sunless sprout. She felt this in him as evident as a rising heat signature.

"S-stand back!" Qwark fumbled with his belt for a weapon, clip claimed to be emptied while battling Nethers. "I have a blaster, and it runs hot!" He added a sizzling sound effect and a head tilt for emphasis, trying to keep a game face.

Qwark then explained to the twins that coming quietly would not only make things easier for the two of them, it would most definitely make him the true savior of Polaris and get him on the front page, instead of page two, of _Igliak Weekly_. He went off on a tangent about that to Neftin while Vendra sat in the back with her knees propped to her chest. She was surprised that Neftin didn't knock the oaf out and fly the ship ho-..._away._

After several minutes, it seemed that Qwark had finally begun to lower the ship. Her physical powers may have been consumed, but she still had enough mental energy to foresee where they were headed. She only had one thing to say, and it was to herself:

"Meridian City Penitentiary? Honestly, must they name _every structure _after this banal place?"

The door to the cargo hold was opened again, shining the metal cave she sat in. Neftin offered her his hand; her head was turned away as she took it.

"I won't try to run," she said, feeling Neftin watch her carefully. "But Nef...don't let them separate us, okay?"

"This is the first time we're jailed together, huh?" Neftin asked, lightly squeezing her hand.

She placed her other hand over his. "Promise me it'll stay that way."

Neftin only sighed, hand in hand with Vendra as the ramp re-opened.

"Aww, the unbreakable bond of twin criminals!" said Qwark, who awaited them at the end of the ramp. "This makes me want to cry...Oh, wait!" Whether or not the super-zero actually blinked back tears was short-lived as he dug through his belt for a digital camera. He quickly trotted up the ramp, wiggled himself between the two, and snapped a picture.

"Ha! Let's see how many Spacebook Likes _that _gets over Ratchet's selfiie with Cronk and Zephyr..."

Qwark lead the twins down a cobblestone pathway decorated colorfully into an insignia of a ball and chain. They approached the Penitentiary, a colossal overturned bowl patterned similarly to a tortoise shell, fully encased in darkly tinted cyan glass and rimmed with rows of shiny cream marble. The entrance was a search but eventually was found jutted out of the west side of the building.

"Haven't they heard of security around here? Must all be out to a high society banquet or something..." Qwark pondered, apparently to the air because neither twin replied. "Ah, who am I kidding? This makes my criminal escort a walk in the-"

"FREEZE!"

The security department was not short-staffed; five officers in uniform and five Galactic Rangers, as well as two active turrents hiding in the plants on either side of the entrance, surrounded the three with guns raised.

The twins had their hands raised in surrender; Qwark had his raised as a greeting.

"Relax, officers, relax!" said Qwark easily, motioning for them all to lower their weapons. "Allow the great Captain Qwark to ease your troubled minds! I bring you something no one has ever-"

"Captain who?" one of the guards on the far right mutters.

That earned gasp from Qwark so long that it turned soundless. "The infamous _Captain Qwark_, savior of Solana from Chairman Drek, who saved Polaris _countless times? First, _by single-handedly defeating Emperor Tachyon by transmorphing his Lombax-made walker to a cute little harmless penguin? Who took down Flint Vorselon _and _Dr. Nefarious on the _same day _with only _these _noble stallions?" To this, he flexed his biceps and kissed his knuckles. "Ring a bell, huh? Captain Qwark?"

No officer answered but a small conversation broke out between two Galactic Rangers behind Qwark and the Progs.

"Think I've seen this fella before," said one with a nod.

"Yeah..." another tapped the butt of his gun to his chin. "Was that you in that jolly red suit ringin' bells for chump change las' winter?"

"Nevermind, nevermind!" Qwark implored, redirecting the guards' attention. "Don't normally say this, but, enough about me! Something _else _will blow your minds, I'm sure..."

Qwark steps aside within the circle, presenting the Progs behind him.

"It's that space witch and her brother!"

"Vendra and Neftin Prog!"

"But, they're here..." the middle guard said. "What is the meaning of-"

"We're surrendering. Both of us," Neftin finished. "Ready the handcuffs."

All speaking was ceased as the space within the circle shrunk.

"Surrendering?" the middle guard asked. "On what accounts? Aside from kidnapping that Terachnoid geek Pollyx..."

"Along with kidnapping, we have arson, property damage, theft, hiring recidivists for crime, and even murder!"

"You don't admit everything like that, you fool!" Vendra whispered harshly to him.

She was ignored; the guard continued, "Who was the murder victim?"

Neftin answered, "There were two. Cronk and Zephyr, if I remember."

"Double murder, huh?" pondered the guard. "Any other murders? By name, perhaps?"

"Not on the Nebulox-"

_"Enough!" _Vendra shouted, hands thrown out angrily in front of her. "Neftin, take that big mouth of yours and _shut it_ for once!"

"Alright, men, move in," the middle guard commanded. Two Rangers situated each twin's hands behind their backs and cuffed them. Guns were kept near their shoulders and legs in case they were feisty, but they refrained. They were lead into the corporation, Qwark in tow. "Everything you _said _can and will be used against you in court."

Inside was colossal space between the floor and the glass ceiling shining golden-orange rays against twinkly chandeliers. Escalators and elevators led to higher floors of the building, desks were lined upon the sides for various services, where offices lay behind, see-through yet soundproof. Boots and metal feet alike trudged soundly across the black tile floor. A high rise metal door at the end looked binding, final.

_Taste the last bit of sun before the world plunges into darkness._

"No, you can't separate us!" Vendra cried minutes later, looking back at her brother frantically. She refused to let a broken face be the last one she saw of him.

"You might run into your brother sometime during your stay, Ms. Prog," a guard reluctantly tried to reassure her as the hall split in two. The Space Witch, feared by many, has separation anxiety? _Feh_. "We're going to dig deeper into the crimes you two committed. In the meantime, shut up and prepare for protocol."

_Protocol. _Thumb prints, mug shots, orange jumpsuits, imprisonment...

"Just tell me why. Is it separated by males and females?" she continued, struggling against her bindings.

A firm hand grips her shoulder to a still. "Nope. Violent on one end, and Insane on the other. Those are really the only kinds of criminals."

A shrill, defeated cry echoed through the hall until two large metal doors were sealed shut on either side.

* * *

Vendra hadn't realized she'd closed her eyes, voiceless minutes added to her audio-visual entry.

_"This is nothing. I'll be out soon. I always find a way to get what I want, after all."_

She powers down her camera.

* * *

Qwark shook hands with a man who garnered impressively long and shiny black robes. Was that silk or polyester? He pondered this as he sat across the only person who stepped in when all the commotion was going on and bothered to ask - _he, the escort who could've easily been killed - _just how in Orvus' name was he doing. He was even generous enough to offer tea and cookies in his office!

"It is an honor to meet you, Captain Qwark."

"Isn't it, though? Ha, just kidding. Mister..." he made a hand juggling motion with his cup of tea.

"Isidore Bronislaw. Appointed and re-elected Judge."

"Friends don't call you Izzy?" Qwark gives another laugh at himself. "Kidding again."

"It must have been a struggle to escort two deadly space criminals here hm?" the man takes a sip of his own tea.

"Nonsense, I'm doing the whole Polaris Defense Force a service! They'll _all _thank me for extracting the evil from this beloved city!"

"I do quite a few speeches when I'm not hitting my gavel or managing other processes within this Penitentiary. How would you like an honorable mention within one of my presentations?"

Qwark lights up at this, leaning in closer with a secret. "Do me a favor and congratulate _me _and not mention any robot-backpack-wearing, show-stealing Lombaxes or bossy, overdressed Markazians, will ya?"

"On second thought, I'll see if we can, um, squeeze you in the front page of _Igliak Weekly _instead. How's that sound?"

Qwark stood, mouth agape, and shook hands with the judge frantically this time.

"That, my new friend, would be _Qwarktastic!_"

* * *

_A/N_

_Prologue is freaking done! Yesh! Chapters forthcoming will really explain the plot later. If I mention it now, it won't be surprising!_

_The majority of the story will be told in Ratchet's point of view with some third person interludes._

_I coined the term Spacebook... :)_

_Let's do this thing!_


	2. Afterwards

_Trials and Abrogations_

_Chapter 1: Afterwards_

"Come on," I tell Clank as I stand up, "we don't wanna keep her waiting."

Conflicting feelings run through my gut as I move to exit the museum. I feel Talwyn's eyes on me and an aura that is a little less depressed but no less sad, and after admitting I'd stay here, half-directly at her, my judgment's no better. I move my feet tentatively, but I refuse to stop them.

In short, all the choices I've made today have been impulsively quick and questionable.

On the Nebulox, I chose to worry about the Progs instead of thinking about Cronk and Zephyr primarily. I was hasty to go after the twins instead of retreating to Igliak. Risking to trust Neftin's word instead of going at it on my own paid off, but now I'm trussed into the most unnerving situation resulted from this impulse: the swift decision that we should now march to where the Progs turned themselves in and demand answers for their crimes.

I'm not knocking the idea, just going over in my head about the speed I'm taking things. I mean, just a few hours ago, I was shooting Nether Blades and strafing back and forth along crumbling chunks of platform waiting for the big bad 'Mr. Eye' to faint. I thought about waiting a day or two to see if Vendra and Neftin would be sealed in a jailhouse and be what I guess you could call 'settled in' before we visited, but I was anxious.

More than that, I knew that we needed answers given. I owe that much, and undoubtedly more, to Tal.

I hardly say anything to her as she walks by my side departing the vast gallery, at least, until I begin to wonder what's taking Clank so long.

"What am I going to do with him?" I chuckle in Talwyn's direction. "Such a slowpoke."

I expect a witty response more on the lines of '_Must get it from you_,' but I get instead a weak, "Yeah."

"Hey, Clank?" I call, waiting for him to turn around to continue. "You comin' or what?"

"Yes, I am!" Clank turns with a whir and runs toward Talwyn and me.

When he halts by my feet, I casually grin at him, then Talwyn, but she's late to return it. I clear my throat, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly.

"Alright," I say, changing face. I set Clank to my back and lead out.

"You seem anxious, Miss Apogee," Clank condones quietly as we are set aglow by the early evening sun.

My eyes that were following Clank's voice glance down to the concrete leading to the glass skywalk where I parked Aphelion. I stop, mainly so I don't walk away rudely as Clank's trying to talk.

"I honestly don't know what to feel right now," I hear Talwyn say. I pick up a sigh. "The fact that we're going while the events are still fresh is good, yet heart-wrenching at the same time. I just still need to get my bearings, that's all."

Her voice has grown faint, and I turn to see her looking off in the middle distance, hands holding her elbows and wind fluffing her hair.

"We don't have to do this so soon, Tal," I try to reassure her, get her to come back down to Igliak from her skyward mind. "We can wait a day or two, wait for a call, or something-"

"No," she says, determination striking her face, her eyebrows knit and fists tight at her sides. "You guys said they have those answers, so I'm getting them as soon as I can. I don't wanna wait for the media to start storming the place for interviews or autographed mugshots. We need dibs." That last part was meant to be lighthearted, but it didn't seem to show in her eyes as convincing as it did in her tiny smile.

I nod in understanding, about to turn but stop once I find out she isn't following me. "My ship's this way, y'know."

"Sorry," she says coyly, "Zephyr just spent sixty bolts filling up mine. I'll honor him a little by showing my appreciation."

She re-enters the museum to go around the back where her ship's parked. My gaze follows her until she disappears, then I walk down the glass skywalk.

I want out of this area now; this museum is starting to feel like not only an awkward place but a spooky one. Upon crossing the threshold, I could've sworn I heard ghosts but...

Nah. It's just been a long day.

* * *

One of the few jailhouses on Igliak is the Meridian City Penitentiary within a few kilometers of the city's outskirts; the next nearest one I know is the Decagon in the crime-riddled Stardust City, south of Luminopolis. From what I hear locals whisper, Meridian City Penitentiary, or the Pent, holds so many floors that it took almost five years to drill enough space to landscape it. Other rumors I hear are that the space used for it once held a raritanium mine, dug up by the landscapers and used to fund the place.

Though I never want to personally experience being jailed a third time in my life, I'm curious to see how this Penitentiary matches up to both Vartax and Zordoom.

Once out of the city, you can easily take in the expansive heights of each building from afar. The Penitentiary exists in its own little - er, _colossal _- bubble, bordered with the city off to one side and fields of grass not bothered by innovation on the other. The building is a tall rising dome that sits on top of a hill, which I assume is the drop leading to unseen, underground jail cells. A corn maze of gates and fences also catches my attention from the air. They weave through the perimeter in a large box, most likely starting from one side and ending at the base of the hill to the building. Now that I look at it, it's more like a labyrinth. I wonder how the Progs got in without Neftin pounding down the gates or Vendra lifting them away.

I find signs directing to a docking bay at the building's north side, but it looks completely reserved for the staff. I try to fly atop to the building so I can see more, but the closer I get to it, the stronger I feel a nostalgic force pulling me back. I stop mid-air and see satellite-like barriers revolving around the Penitentiary that create a forcefield over the entire landscape.

The central controls beep as Aphelion's voice chimes sadly, _"I am sorry, Ratchet. My Xulian overthrusters are unable to penetrate the penitentiary barriers."_

"It's alright, Aphelion. I'll see if I can touch down elsewhere," I say, making a 90 degree turn and continually scanning out the cockpit below.

"I do not believe they are apt to having visitors," Clank says next to me.

"If not, looks like they're gonna have to start a new tradition."

After circling the streets for another five minutes, I finally find a spot that won't get me fined two blocks off. I hook Clank to my back and walk down the practically soundproof streets. It kind of feels refreshing to get out of the city bustle.

"Well, here are the gates," I announce when approached. "Now, how to get inside...?"

"Freeze!"

I turn left to where the voice sounds, and a guard in a light blue uniform marches armed and angry.

"I've waited six months for this..." he muses, stopping in front of me and clicking his gun back. "I didn't quit my job at Galaxy Burger not to get paid to shoot one day..."

Hands half-raised, I stammer, "H-hey, I'm not looking for any trouble-"

"Who are you?"

My head tilts perplexedly at this, though it's kind of relieving to know that some people aren't familiar with me. I'm plenty used to guns in my face, but I'm unnerved by the way he comes closer to me, backing me into the hexagonal chain link fence. Well, Clank's face, for the most part.

"I'm Ratchet..." I say and swallow. "This is the real me, no hologuise or anything...You can even pull my tail to know it's me, though I wouldn't recommend that..."

I feel my elbow being jabbed and hear a balked version of my name behind me.

"Oh," I say, turning three-quarters around, probably convincing the guy that I carry a death-bot as a backpack by the way Clank's most likely glaring at him. "Mind letting me move up? My pal Clank's getting a little squished..."

He does step back but refuses to lower his weapon. I feel a tug at my back as Clank detaches himself, approaching the guard with a calm and reassuring face.

"Sir, we are active members of the Polaris Defense Force," Clank explains, easily reaching in his chest compartment and showing his PD badge with matching photo.

Why do I hesitate to show mine? Let's just say when receiving identification badges _someone _ thought his foundation was going to melt if he had to sit any longer under the beaming hot spotlights, ruining not only his dashing good looks but making the makeup label look bad; thus, while disobeying the logical and simpler order of tallest in the back, decided to make himself next in line after me, tripped over some taped-down cords, and viola. Snapshot of my mushed face and my left eye poked by his large finger. He then had the nerve to go up to the holoscreen displaying it and comment to himself, _I even fall like a superhero!_

Time was money and each member had only one shot. I have yet to get mine retaken.

I nod and display my badge, my fingers over the picture.

"As such, we are allowed access to buildings that need our reconnaissance." Clank steps closer, and the guard points his pistol at my pal's little head. I'm by his side with a small glower set to my face. "We are here to acquire the containment status of Vendra and Neftin Prog."

"We have a rule here..." the guard glances away for a second, "Uh, 97-A: 'No outside parties permitted for visitations until we contain, decontaminate, and detain prisoners for at least 24 hours.'"

"If possible, could a supervisor verify our profession and honor our request despite that rule?" Clank asks.

"He's in a meeting now," the man explains. "Be ready to sit out here for a while. If I take it through him, he'll let you in. _If _those badges aren't something printed freely off the Holonet or something."

"We can assure you they're the real deal," I say, pocketing my badge. "There's someone else we're adding to our party: her name is Talwyn Apogee. Can you remember that?"

The man answers by slowly placing his weapon in its holster, pacing around, and muttering commands through his comm-unit. He gives a few stiff nods and more mumbling before turning back to Clank and me.

"Alright, Fuzzball, here's the deal..."

I listen while trying not to laugh at how watery that name-call is.

"There're little crimes riddled all over Meridian City. My boss says Polaris Defense dispatches squads for these, and he wants to see you in action. Either he needs to see you on the news tonight wrangling a Blargian Snagglebeast, or you two bring any criminal here. That's how you'll prove your status."

"You're kidding," I deadpan.

He shrugs. "Hey, this Pent is in the city's name but that doesn't mean any of its employees live here. Not all of us know you as the Famous Ratchet or whatever your title is. People like me, we're from the densely populated towns on Igliak, y'know?"

I go to give a smug reply but my nav-unit flashes on my chest. I patch the holographic transmission through.

_"Ratchet, come in. Looks like we got a bit of a problem."_ It's Tal, and her face looks pretty grave.

"A bit I could deal with now," I reply.

She shakes her head at me._ "Well, here it is. My nav-unit is picking up a league of Thugs infiltrating the Meridian City Bank!"_

"Looks like their boss didn't pay them like he promised," I say, thinking of all the gripes Neftin barked at the mercenaries hired to kill me. "Trace the Thugs' location to my nav-unit. I'll see you there." She nods.

"Assuming Miss Apogee is part of the operation?" Clank asks.

I quickly end the transmission if she hears that. "What, you don't want her to be?"

"This is Thugs-for-Less. A mercenary group hired for killing," Clank seems to remind me. "It does not seem reasonable to put her life in danger."

"Clank, she carries an Alpha Disruptor."

He gives me an unconvinced, half-lidded look.

"Just sayin'. She's a pretty good shot."

We hurry back to my ship; I have Aphelion come closer to us as soon as we're out of the forcefield limits.

"Well, Aphelion," I say as I start her thrusters, "looks like we found ourselves some live bait."

* * *

The sky is a dusky yellow and blue color, dark enough for breaking and entering. I pull the steering wheel back toward my chest, taking us up almost ninety degrees into the clouds.

"I'm 275 cubits above the bank now, Tal," I communicate through radio with her on-screen. "Three Thug dropships are sitting out front and...yep, one's illegally parked in handicap."

"One more was flying a little too close to me before you got here, but I was riding his blind spot. I think it might still be lurking through the air. It's already crashed itself into seven other ships that got in its way, trying to keep them away from here," Talwyn says. I see her ship fly in behind mine.

"It sounds like the ship that tried to ram us, Ratchet," Clank says worriedly.

"If so," I reply, "we'll have to think of another way in."

"By the looks of things, none of the ships unloaded," Talwyn explains.

"Must be waiting for an initiation."

"Do you suggest we land in front of them and engage?" Clank asks next to me.

"Not really," I answer him. "They'll ambush us before we can even open our cockpits."

Talwyn is making a quick command for backup, and during this, Clank mutters to me:

"Then, the best way in..."

"Is up," I finish. I speak up now that she's done. "You may think I'm crazy, Tal, but we've gotta do a HALO jump to the rooftop."

To this, she looks at me, then Clank, then raises an eyebrow at me.

"That is not happening," she says sternly.

"Aw, come on!" I crack a smile, trying not to laugh at her. "It's exhilarating! Helps clear your head!"

"It is also a Top Twenty for bucket lists," Clank adds with a giggle.

Talwyn ends her transmission on-screen and switches over to my nav-unit, her holographic face lining up with mine.

_"I trust you, Ratchet...Since I do, you're sure this is 'exhilarating'?" _She's shaky, but her voice is also softer.

"You bet." My smile turns warm, and so do other parts of me for a sec, then I shake it off with an exhale, leaning back in my seat. "You ready for this?"

She fully cuts me off now. From close behind, I hear a loud scream, and it takes me a second to realize Talwyn did it. Then she's back on-screen only to say, as if complying originally, "Ready."

Our ships are on autopilot. The cockpits open, wind flapping my eyelids and gums. I wish I could turn around and see Talwyn's likely big-eyed expression, but the ejector seats deploy. I latch Clank to my back as the descent begins.

I finish my descent quietly activating Clank's heli-pack; Talwyn fires up her jet-pack, smoothing down her hair with one hand and taking out her blaster with the other. I want to ask how the ride was but, again, she's taking out her blaster.

While the rooftop is pitch-black, I don't risk activating my Clank light, even atop an eight-story corporate bank. The roof is a large concrete square with various cast-iron pipes, water tanks, and a fire escape that resembles a trap-door. I crouch near the northwest corner just far enough to look down unseen despite the darkness.

When I look over, I see one Thug with a helmet approaching the entrance, tossing in his hands what looks from here like a large rock.

"What do you see?" Talwyn's silhouette whispers.

"I was expecting droves, but there's only one Thug," I reply, turning my head a little. "He might be using the old-school rock-in-the-window break-in."

Clank moves a little along my back, and asks, "Could you move aside for a moment, Miss Talwyn?"

She does, whirling around and propping up her blaster. "What, did you see someone?"

"I do not know..." Clank answers dismissively.

"I think we should watch each other's backs, Ratchet," Talwyn suggests firmly. "We don't know where the Thugs will be popping up."

"Yeah..." I agree, hopping to my feet, grabbing my wrench. "Alright. We'll take the fire escape down to the-"

A resounding explosion cuts me off. I crawl over the edge again, seeing if the explosion will send the building crumbling over itself, but it is less destructive, shattering only the glass, which I see spraying out with light and smoke. I should've known it was one of those firecracker Thugs. As the smoke clears, the dropships empty, scores of Thugs cackling as they march inside heavily armed.

"Let's go!" I call, and Talwyn and I run toward the fire escape.

I activate my Clank light, crouching down to the ground door. Just as I'm about to open the hatch, the door flings back, clanging like a dropped gong. My large ears ring profusely, and the sound of Thugs jumping out with battle cries registers like I'm underwater. I bite back a swear and leap back, my grip tight on my wrench.

Three Thugs flank Talwyn and me in a semicircle, the ones in front of each of us raising their spiked clubs intimidatingly around their tongues. The one in the middle sizes us up, his hands behind his back, where I'm sure he's hiding an equally deadly weapon.

"Looks like it's a pretty fair match," I joke. "Three against three..."

I hear Clank's head snap back to look at me, then he sighs and shakes it.

"Look, Boris, he's like a big fluffy teddy-cat!" He pats the softer end of his club against his hand.

"No, lookie _here, _Gleb! I ain't never seen so many curves beneath a body suit!" This one looks close to drooling.

His comment earns a growl from Talwyn and a blaster shot to the face. The Thug bends back in a fashion I've only seen in holofilms, then springs back dumbfounded.

"This broad's got skill!" Boris comments, and Gleb laughs.

The one in the middle snaps his fingers on both hands, which orders the two to freeze and stare at us.

"You got a name, too?" I ask the middle one foolishly.

The leader tosses his head as a nod, using one hand to pull down some of the belts on his armor and letting us see the tattoo on his chest: VLAD.

"Huh," I comment, suddenly ducking with a swing to the groin at Gleb, the Thug front of me. He doubles over, whining about the "immense level of pain."

Boris comes toward me, bothered that I hurt his friend. I flap my hand, inviting him, slapping the head of my wrench into my palm. Then, a whistle cuts through the clear air. Talwyn is levitating high with her jet-pack, twirling her blaster. "You're mine, _Boris_."

I smirk her way with an affirmative nod. Gleb looks finished nursing his crotch, now seething mad. His long jaw slacks, his tongue slithers out, stilled by licking the spiky points again.

"Let's see how you like nails up _your _crotch, Lombax..."

"I'm sure it isn't worse than the embarrassing itch I got from Qwark's Personal Hygienator," I reply.

"We'll see!"

Gleb throws his club back underhand, ready for a low but devastating swing. I expect it and back-flip out of its way. He charges forward and strikes his club against my wrench, throwing his weight over me. I drop to one knee, grunting, a few spikes coming dangerously close to my eyes.

"Clank," I call through gritted teeth, "my belt...Quantum...Repulsor!"

My knee's about to give out. I feel Clank's extended arm scramble through my belt until it grabs my Quantum Repulsor. I take it in my left hand, fumbling for the trigger.

A bright flash of shockwaves reverberates through my hand and into the air, sending Gleb high across the roof before he tumbles backwards. Once his head slams against the water tank, he's out.

I scan the skies until I find Talwyn, who's trying to take down Boris midair. She looks fine, so I focus on the eerily quiet Vlad. What kind of weapon is he hiding? He continues to stand in a nonchalant pose, his eyes towards me.

"Alright, Vlad, show me what you've got," I challenge.

I can tell this Thug doesn't say much, so I'm sort of making a guess at when he'll attack, and with what. He mutely reveals what was behind his back: small, triangular throwing knives wedged between each knuckle. He chucks one at me, and it nearly grazes the tip of my ear; I pull them back protectively against my head. I think about using my Winterizer to transform the knives into Christmas tree cookies, but my hesitation allows Vlad to make another move; he jumps atop a pipe structure, his weight teetering it a bit. He gains leverage, fist raised to aim at me. I prepare for it, but I don't prepare for him to aim his other hand, whilst his eyes still on me, aiming somewhere off my light source. I see glimpses of shiny sharpness shoot down somewhere on the tiled concrete, while others take aim at my face. I strafe and use Clank's heli-pack to scale a water tank, becoming level with the Thug. There are overlapping pipes that act as a momentary fort as I plank flatly, ears to tail, to load my Plasma Slayer.

"What is he doing with those knives? He seems to throw them aimlessly," Clank ponders to me.

"Unless you count me as aimless," I joke, tilting my gun so the ammo rolls into the barrel.

"He may have an ulterior motive, Ratchet," he continues to warn me. "Be careful."

I use the modified night-vision scope to follow another awkwardly thrown knife. Some flag seems to hang off the handles as if pointing off landmarks. I zoom in to level 3 and see it's aimed for one of the water tanks, but I can't make out the addition.

"Well, if he was aiming for Tal, he was way off," I comment, noting that the tank is just below where she's still flying and shooting.

I hear a sharp, metal-on-metal stab that startles me, and it doesn't take me long to realize Vlad aimed for the water tank I'm crouching on. I squeeze my face into the space below the pipes to look down, letting my Clank light decipher the object's strange attachment: a mini pyrocidic blaster mine.

The second I'm about to scramble up and leap for my life, Vlad presses a button that detonates the water tanks. The explosion doesn't drain the water from the point that he inserted the blade but shoots out with plenty of force to the top. I guess they acted as a sort of syringe for the bomb. I'm blasted high - any higher and I'd touch a star cluster - and I wonder how Clank is taking it as we're both engulfed by water. It's enough to distract and disallow him to break my fall, and I slam hard on my back on the jagged hole in the top of the tank. The sharp, jutted edges dig into the back of my neck and the small of my back. I feel blood there and bruising throughout my back, but it's nothing a little nanotech won't fix.

I shiver in the night air, my pressurized Nebulox suit not apt for swimming conditions, sopping wet against my fur. I groan and sit up on the intact edge, shaking water out of my right ear.

"You alright, Clank?" I ask, coughing and snorting water out of my nose.

"I am feeling a bit _under the weather_," Clank says grumpily, shaking water out of his chest compartment. Guess his mouth was open.

Ignoring how messy we both feel, Clank helps me descend the tank, and I run toward the other one. It suffered the same fate, its water completely wasted and pooling on the rooftop. I don't see Talwyn, and I glance around and call her name.

"Right here," she says in a way that is both embarrassed and angry.

I shine my Clank light to where her voice directs, and I find her sitting on the wet floor, some of her hair matting wetly to her face. I gape at her, but I don't realize I'm shining directly into her face as if she's a caught crook. She shields her eyes and glares in my direction; because there's only one setting to my light, I aim it off at her feet so she can adjust. Once she does, her eyes are big and her frown is deep.

"Went for a swim too, huh?" she asks before I can say it.

The fact that she read my thoughts makes me chuckle. "Caught me by surprise."

She huffs. "Me, too. Damn water extinguished my jet-pack."

"Explains why you look so chill now," I joke with a chortle.

Which dies out because Tal halfheartedly lifts her gun at me.

"It seems the Thugs ran away," Clank notes, bringing us back to the serious matter.

"Probably down through the fire escape," says Talwyn, standing up and rubbing her bum. "Let's stop fooling with these Thugs and stop the ones that are stealing the city's bolts, huh?"

We slide down the long golden rod to a catwalk, descend the stairs, and reach the highest floor. Red carpet interior leads to an elevator, and a steel door opens to a stairwell.

"Stairs," Talwyn commands. "Elevator's an unwise gamble."

I glance down at long, steep stairs circling down into a hidden abyss of more stairs. There's a magnetic strip that goes down the walls, and where it ends in stairs, it makes up for another descent on the other side. I leap toward it and hope I'm not falling as my heart jumps to my throat, but I feel it knock against my pulse as I'm magnetically pulled to the side wall. I turn my head to the right at Talwyn, wondering how she'll get down.

"I'm pretty light on my feet," she says, reading my mind again. "Race ya down!"

With a giddy grin, I begin my descent that appears sideways from her standpoint. By the time I gravitate toward the second strip, Talwyn's descended five flights of stairs. She's still a way's above me and the time I clear twenty, she's out of sight.

I hear Clank call my name occasionally, but I'm so far in the lead, I ignore him.

Once I'm at the bottom of the lobby floor, it's clear I'm victorious. I wait by the elevator where I catch my breath for practically no reason.

"I almost want to start whopping Thugs without her," I exhale to Clank.

"I wonder why Miss Talwyn wanted to make a game out of a mission," he says quizzically.

"Lightens the mood when you're about to risk your life, pal. Organic protocol." I fan myself.

He seemed to ponder the correlation between life expectancy and risk-taking until he and I hear the stairway exit door open.

I straighten, hold up my wrench, and expect a Thug, but it's Talwyn, and she holds out her arms.

"'Bout time you showed up," she says with a raised eyebrow.

There's not a drop of sweat on her! "What- How-"

"I tried to tell you, Ratchet," Clank says with a shrug.

"The elevator was a _gamble_, and I took it." She grins devilishly and turns so I don't see it. "You'll have plenty of time to see me beat you in a race later, come on!"

Despite our fun, we get back to business immediately. Tal's warning was right; Thugs have begun rioting. The expansive lobby is a drunken party of papers flying through the air, Thugs shouting and knocking into each other to grab money bags, and shattered glass from teller booths, countertops, and two chandilers littering the red carpet floor.

Most importantly, I hear screams echoing around the room as civilians and workers scramble out of random blast ranges and into doors or corners of walls.

"Tal, get any and every citizen inside evacuated to safety!"

This way, if things go wrong, the innocent don't have to go...

As she moves, I shake my head and focus myself. I dig through my belt and summon a Zurkon family to stop Thugs from coming in or out. They make noisy comments about earning kills in exchange for bolts as I run back toward the vault.

About three scores of Thugs are helping themselves to bags of bolts as big as my whole body. Some pass them along like hot potatoes while others try to carry armfuls. I whistle and shout to get their attention. About half of them stop and look my direction. I see Gleb and Boris again, and they converse.

"Aw, he's even shorter and furrier in the light!" says Gleb.

"Hey, isn't Boss still offering that 10,000-bolt bonus for his head?" Boris suddenly asks.

"His butt's in jail! Ain't that why we're robbing banks, ya fool?"

Boris gets a slap to the back of the head. "Hey, you wanna go?" he shouts at his friend.

"No, stupid! We're supposed to be killing the Lombax! You want free money _and _a bonus, yeah?!"

"Oh, yeah! He owes me for the crotch swing _and _the bump on my head!"

About forty other swords and clubs raise in one fluid motion.

"What were you thinking, Ratchet?" Clank mutters.

"Don't ask."

A pile of K.O.'d Thugs and empty artillery clips later, my heart's struggling to keep up with the constant dodging, lunging, and strafe-flipping. My Zurkon Family reloads are running on empty, and I won't be able to barricade the Thugs for much longer without backup. I haven't left the vault area, but I'm relieved there's no more screaming.

"How's the evac going, Tal?"

A sword slash distorts her face for a second, and so does the fact that the attack's proximity sends my heart into overdrive. "_Surprisingly well. I downloaded a floor plan from the computer and ran a bioscan to make sure no one was left behind. I've got everyone out by the fountain a few hundred cubits outside the back emergency exit."_

"Nice work." My smile couldn't be more grateful.

She smiles back. "Looks like you're having a ball in there. Backup should be here by now!" she huffs.

"Eh, no need. Think I've got the weapon that'll finish the job. Something that'll scream _stop robbing our bank_, y'know?" The thought just came to mind.

"I hope it is not _extremely _destructive," Clank groans. He knows me too well.

I smirk. "Time to raise hell."

I use this next move as the real justification for the evac. There's a strange, sudden silence broken by shudders and gulps as I pull back the safety on my R.Y.N.O Extreme.

When I say I raised hell, let's say it involved countless surrendered money bags, tons of tripping, a few cries for mommy, and just a wee bit more structural damage.

I find myself laughing at this circus performance while I listen to the doom music installed in the gun. Laughing feels pretty damn good.

* * *

It turns out that the backup Talwyn called for was working to take out the ramming dropship. Although they didn't follow her order, she was grateful for that. Galactic Rangers throw Thugs into transport vessels.

The other dropships were tipped and bound by Mag-Nets, courtesy of Polaris Defense. It eased us having to chase Thugs if they escaped. Meridian City police have also managed to come now that the threat to the sky's defeated, and they've placed a hefty parking ticket on the one parked in handicap.

Clank, Talwyn, and I sit on the wings of our ships while the work switches over.

"Does this mean we could see the Progs now, Ratchet?" Clank asks.

"I think so," I answer. "The Thugs are headed to the Meridian City Penitentiary for questioning. I hear the police will give us the credit."

"We can finally get those answers," Clank continues, sounding both serious and relieved.

I notice he said _we, _and I realize that Clank and I are also moments away from hearing the horrible truth. I lean my throbbing head on the cool exterior of my ship. My eyes drift to the sky, the glow of Clank's eyes in my peripheral. He's observing me, and I'm tempted to turn away because I know what he'll ask next.

"Are _you_ alright, Ratchet?"

I turn on my side and don't answer him immediately. Talwyn looks at me, too, now that I'm facing her, and I feel stuck in the middle. She's going to be asking the questions while Clank and I listen; at least, that's the plan. I imagine how hard that would be for her if I wasn't here. Death persuaded me to run from this galaxy once, but I wouldn't dare do it now with this interrogation coming shortly. My words back at the museum come to mind again. I couldn't read her mind then, and I couldn't now. For causing this mess, I want to fix it. I turn back where I was and sigh.

"Not really," I answer candidly.

A police officer approaches the three of us with a small notepad and flashlight. "Could we ask one of you some questions?"

"I'll go," Talwyn volunteers, passing Clank and me with a grin.

We return it, and once she's out of the parking lot, I lean back on my elbows. _Soon, _I think, _she'll be asking her _own _questions._

"She was smiling," says Clank.

"What?" I say, my thoughts breaking.

"When Miss Apogee executed her HALO jump, her eyes were closed, and she was smiling." Clank playfully nudged my elbow. "You looked like you wanted to know."

This is why I love this guy. Clank sees sky when we jump as well as in every situation with his enlivening words. Talwyn probably thought of Cronk and Zephyr and the battles they related each jump to. My eyes close, and I see my fur billowing in a fall, two old warbots hooting beside me.

"Glad to hear."


	3. Decoding Crimes

_Trials and Abrogations_

_Chapter 2: Decoding Crimes_

_interludes_

Qwark's 'new friend' seems to mind other matters as he walks without much regard to the captain. Halls are lined beautifully with hand-crafted wooden doors that almost reach the full height of their walls. These doors have golden plaques beside them that display pretty important names, Qwark guesses.

Judge Isidore Bronislaw is a tall and wide Hoolefoid. His bald, magenta-skinned head rounds off to ridged, pointy ears, wide-set teal eyes, a long, narrow nose, and thin, darker lips. Add blackened blisters to the cheeks, forehead and spots that just miss the eyes, and you'd doubt he grew up by Hoolefar's waters. He walks in quite a ghostly fashion, his lengthy, swishing robes covering his feet. One of his thick hands locks around his wrist behind his back, and the green hero notices they're also awfully burned, black and blistered red. With this in mind, Qwark decides to include burn cream in his new lineup of _Blaster_ products.

Bronislaw floats to a stop, Qwark nearly bumping into him. He fumbles with keys to a door named _DARKS G. _

"It _is_ getting rather late, Captain Qwark - why don't you head on home? I wouldn't want to use up any more of your time..."

"No bother at all!" However, Qwark remains a little nervous at the sudden brush-off. "Probably need to sleep on that paper idea, huh? Well, if you're still considering, I have a picture of me escorting them here in my camera! Uh, does the paper accept selfies?"

"Quite sure it will. I am meeting with my newest criminal defense attorney, who'll look into this case. We're going to be doing a lot of big talk that I'm sure will bore you, so...Good day, Captain Qwark." He steps into the dark crack in the door, the interior obscured.

"Excuse me, Mr. Bronislaw? Last thing, I promise! Could you make sure they mention my incoming holofilm, _My Blaster Runs 2 Hot_? Preferably in red ink so that even the colorblind will see it..."

Qwark continues to ramble even as the tall door is slowly closing. "You know, if I was a lawyer, I'd like to do that one-worded 'Objection!' line...Hey, there's an idea for the film! I'll disguise myself as one of those brainiacs and then _BOOM! _Throw in some CG explosions and reveal myself to the ICE exterminators _also _in disguise..._and I'll add you to the credit roll-!_"

The door locks behind itself.

Qwark is left dumbfounded for a second, but then he turns to walk toward a series of escalators leading to the exit.

He fulfilled his duty as a prison escort and, unlike Ratchet, actually succeeded! He'd be given a spot in the paper in his honor, which meant bigger publicity in Polaris, bigger holofilm roles, and a bigger ego to gloat with. Overall, a Qwarktastic day. And just to be unselfish, he briefly wondered what kind of day his new friend Isidore Bronislaw was having. Probably an off one, seeing how the conversation gradually drifted from the super-zero's valiant deed and toward the satisfaction that specific criminals were in Bronislaw's possession and could finally see conviction. Qwark remembers the judge continually rambling about that until his phone rang, during which Qwark rehearsed some kind of redirection.

_"Please excuse my phone calls, Captain. It was one of my guards. Someone was seen trespassing. Young ones these days always want to play the hero."_

_"And they can never get it right unless they have me as a mentor, am I right? And I actually_ _tamed_ _a Blargian Snagglebeast!_"

Though only slightly curious about both the Progs and who trespassed earlier, Qwark guesses he'll teach the kid about heroism sometime tomorrow. After all, good heroes need rest!

* * *

"I thought he'd never leave."

The judge hears the young voice direct towards an oversized armchair, flickers of fire lighting the leather cozily.

"Nothing wrong with showing a fellow around. Does that bother you, Mr. Gumblebrick?"

There's the clatter of a china cup returning to a coaster and the creak of an ancient chair becoming weightless. A pint-striped suit and a stunningly bright brooch against the lapel adorn the man's olive green skin. His short-cut dark hair and brown eyes frame his young face. The full lips beneath the drooping handlebar moustache disjoin with a breezy smile.

"Not at all. As you can tell by my mood brooch, Mr. Bronislaw, orange means I'm quite content."

Bronislaw sees this as an invitation to step forward and shake hands with his subordinate. The two smile like the good acquaintances they are, remaining standing and professional.

Bronislaw is one of few in the Pent that has heard Gumblebrick's remarkable story. He was raised on Planet Endako in the Bogon galaxy as a foster kid, and was quite self-sufficient: by age five, he was read the Encyclopedia of Planetary Asymmetry cover to cover in class, outsmarting even the Terachnoid kids; he graduated high school at age ten; and he recently completed the long stretch of law school with a minor in galactic history, now in his early twenties. Bronislaw met him in a referral from the President of Bogon and hired him immediately. For the past two years, Bronislaw has befriended Gumblebrick, watching his skill grow as quickly as his moustache. The young man represented the criminal side of court without ever batting a judgmental eye.

The judge and chief was also set on keeping _this _attorney, as he was accustomed to letting each new one go after one year. Maybe because it's the boy's _untold_ past that intrigues him most, as he enjoys small bites of it on rare occasions.

"Now, shall we begin?" says Gumblebrick, gesturing to two manila envelopes resting on his shadowed desk, stamped and labeled: PROG, NEFTIN; PROG, VENDRA.

The judge's half singed eyebrows raise to the very top of his forehead. "_These two _were escorted here by Captain Qwark?" This is more asked to himself than to the young attorney, who looks at him bewildered.

"I suppose so," Gumblebrick answers, watching the judge take the older twin's file into his hand shakily. "Did you suspect other, _less _deadly space criminals captured simultaneously?"

Bronislaw's agape mouth closes slowly. "It's not that, it's just..._ironic,_ in every sense. I knew I had to keep bystanders off of my criminals, but...This is..."

Gumblebrick swipes Vendra's file from the table. He analyzes his boss, who practically falls to a sit in his once occupied chair. The judge untwists the pulley-like string binding the file. Runs charred fingers through the tops of each paper that fans out like an accordion. Lifts a few and spreads them out against the table beside Gumblebrick's empty cup. A recent mugshot of Neftin's grimacing face and profile, with a small bio in chicken scratch. A grocery list of "confessions." Reports from interviews of his location at large half a year ago.

"He hasn't changed a bit..." the judge mutters below a whisper, the crackles of the fire absorbing it.

"Sir?" Gumblebrick asks in a believably concerned voice, masked with his stoic expression and leafing of Vendra's file.

_I've played by the rules for a very long time, _Bronislaw muses inside, afraid the fire won't mask these words. _This could be my chance to inflict ultimate conviction._

"Mr. Gumblebrick, I'm only allowed to tell you so much. Because we are so well acquainted, I do not want a bias to persuade my verdicts. You are quite aware of this, but I must repeat this to you with practically every case I've involved you with for the past year, _all _criminal court cases..."

Gumblebrick nods obligatorily. "I understand, go on."

"You are representing twins Vendra and Neftin Prog." His professional voice reigns over his tired slouch. "They've been accused, through confession, of murder, theft, arson, and kidnapping. Vendra was convicted of the last two crimes six months ago on Planet Terachnos. The blame for the recently accused crimes appears to lean toward her, so you must find a way to equalize it, or eliminate it."

Gumblebrick sets Vendra's file down on his desk, then returns to the side of his chair. His brooch turns bright yellow, and he can hardly contain an excited chortle. "Won't this be fun. Have you decided what you are going to do first?"

"When the Polaris Defense Force arrives tonight with their 'requested package,' _you_ will have Vendra on the interrogation floor as I promised." Bronislaw notices his attorney about to ask, and he stands, answering, "Yes, just one of them for now. _I_ will be speaking to this one-" he motions said person with a tightly gripped flap of the envelope "-in the meantime."

* * *

Rumors of tussles both self-inflicted and initiated stain the chambers offered. Unchanged and overused, the too-small bed whimpers when sat upon. The three chipped walls reek of dried blood, recycled body odor, and Agorian sweat. Throughout the floor, occasional slams reverberate from various cells like distant drums. From a black-belt Blarg to a Platinum champion Agorian, here lies a slew of compulsive, domestically violent bullies on the tenth level of the Penitentiary.

Neftin Prog contemplates in his cell, which, from the dim shadows and empty neighbors, can allow deep thought. He is in prison, security heavy, and treatment manageable. He was separated from Vendra, as predicted. He can barely get around and muses that he either needs a bigger cell, or a smaller body, though both seem impossible.

_"Why are you so scrawny, Nef?" _He recalls a shrill voice, the unchanged anger of his seven-year-old sister. _"Look at these arms! They're like chicken legs! If they were tougher, you could beat up those punks that picked on me today! Again!"_

Now the thickness of a Snagglebeast's tongue. Veins like vines run down his pale arms and pump blood through the cybernetic pipes implanted from a large, slouched shoulder blade to his back. The contraption's innards around his chest and torso are exposed to the air now, dark purple and pulsating, because even the largest jumpsuits made the Nether feel like it was going to rip. Until a custom-made suit could be situated around his strange body, Neftin was forced to remain bare from the waist up.

This body, his _life..._Vendra sacrificed so much for him. And he turned her in as well as himself, thinking he was doing what was best for them both. Neftin remembers spending years thinking of some kind of way to repay her when she reconstructed his body to life, so he reluctantly decided to help her reunite with the Nethers. Eventually, he, too, became immersed in the project, so much that he spent months researching transdimensional experimentation, aiding her with every trial and tweaking each error. And when she'd finally see her friend, she'd _thank him_. _L__ook _at_ him_ again, instead of longingly at empty walls and dejectedly at exploded machinery.

A slam to the ground from the cell above him generates like an earthquake, crumbling his thoughts. Neftin sighs. The inmates are so rough, tough, and violent that Neftin is surprised he doesn't see any of the Thugs-

The door to the level slides open; escorted by a score of guards are a score of space crocodiles. Some march in obedient silence, while others struggle and whine. A few even mutter like scaredy cats about a "brutally armed Lombax." Neftin's about to lean into the bars and get his recidivists' attention, until two in particular come down babbling, pause, and then slam into the bars at the sight of him.

"Hey, where's our money, huh?! 'Cuz of you, we got busted for robbin' banks- Oww!" One Thug is headbutted lightly by the one next to him.

"Remain _silent_, ya fool!" He glares at Neftin like he wants to spit at him. "He ain't worth it. I can't believe our boss would stoop so low!"

"Alright," barks a guard, squaring their shoulders away, "move it. No need to bother him."

A third Thug, who'd lagged close behind the two talkers, wordlessly flipped Neftin a lowly cuffed bird upon passing.

Neftin wasn't good with naming over two hundred Thugs, but he was familiar with the three "high school buddies": Vlad, Boris, and Gleb. Hard to forget the names of the ones who advertized Destructapalooza. Especially since Vlad got his tongue cut out for a slip of a swear word.

After the Thugs clear out, another figure would've camoflagued behind them if not for his height. A wide man stops in front of the Nether's cell, his dark attire delaying sight adjustment. Neftin leans up, but doesn't press into the bars, keeping within the safe shadows of his cell. The man is a Hoolefoid, with blisters throughout his body, nobly known despite that. When teal pupils meet Neftin's single eye, time seems to slow, the background noise quieting. Silk sleeved arms spread to Neftin as if he wants to hug a dear friend.

"Neftin Prog. Read your files, and I'll say I'm astounded by the list of possible convictions on you."

Neftin scoffs, knowing feigning strangeness is futile. "'Vote for Isidore Bronislaw.' I remember your election flyers, most of which I've seen in the trash, from about a year ago. Vendra and I were here stealing the museum's tour-bot."

"Now re-elected Judge and Chief of this Penitentiary, if you'd be so kind." The judge clears his throat, adjusting his snappy tone. " Now that we're acquainted, let's return to _your_ circumstances. I see you behind bars, so I assume you did something _very_ wrong. Your violent nature is beyond that of even Romulus Slag, but you do much less skewering and more conclusive beating. Which is why murder stunned me most. Your control's finally snapped, hasn't it?"

Large teeth grind together angrily. "You said you just read my case files. Stop acting like you know me well."

To this, Bronislaw smirks lightly, knowing the large Nether has more to say.

Neftin looks down, ashamed, at his hands. "I'd be delusive to say _I _didn't kill them, but I've never had someone else's blood _and _guts on my hands-."

The judge holds up his muddy pink palm. "Now, I suggest you say no more. Don't you know that you're digging your own grave just by saying what you're saying now?" His gentle tone turns belittling again. "Or are you that used to spilling the beans, such as _theft_ and _murder_? Don't you know that you have the right to remain silent, to understand that anything said can be used against you in court, that you can be issued an attorney in your defense?" He sees Neftin trying to comply by biting his lip. "You may speak to answer, Neftin."

"I know all that. Just never thought of it...when I opened my 'big mouth.'" There's a guilty meekness to his voice.

"Here's how _my_ Penitentiary runs." Bronislaw steps closer to the bars as if they should cradle his words. "All criminals brought here are given a fighting chance. If taken here, they are kept in cells until a court case is arranged. About eighty percent of lawsuits are civil, like damages from a bank robbery, while the remaining twenty are criminal, as in a murder accusation. One of my attorneys represent you, the defendant, while the prosecution represents their client's problems. After I've listened to both sides, I reach the verdict in either case, with the aid of a jury in a criminal sense. Punishments vary from a few months to life imprisonment, and, not issued as of yet, the _death penalty_."

With a leer, the Hoolefoid steps back, the large Nether never losing face.

"Instead of letting the two of you waste away in jail, you and your sister are going to court. When you brought yourself here, you were not issued your rights, correct? Instead, you were asked questions so that you could be convicted without your voice. I will listen to both sides well and make the decision that'll bring justice to this city - no, the entire galaxy."

Neftin shakes his head, those words rattling inside. " Court? But, why bother? You'll only convict us for what we did. We're _criminals_-!"

"Who are innocent until proven guilty. I will return with further details. I wish you and your sister luck."

Bronislaw steps back and walks away with his quiet, almost afloat gait. Before Neftin thinks he's gone, the judge's voice carries to his cell.

"By the way...a few members of the Polaris Defense Force are here to speak with you two. We're taking Vendra for the time being. If she's good, maybe you'll see her tonight."

When the floor's door seals shut, it's like all other activity resumes.

* * *

There's no way to tell how much time has passed; Vendra is miles beneath the sun and moon.

It took a complaint for one of the patrol guards to finally liberate her of the chains around her wrists. She was rapidly approached from behind at gunpoint by one guard while another undid her bindings. The guards continue to over-exaggerate. Without her powers, a hostile takeover wouldn't be as flawless as the Nebulox's.

The Nether lay on her drab grey bed that mimics a warped rock slate. A sigh wisps from her lips, her eyes lull closed, and she occasionally rubs each sore wrist.

Aside from the perpetual background noise of other inmates (hands shaking the bars, heads banging into walls, or the cries of druggies suffering hallucinations of creatures crawling in their skin) and the shuffling of guards' feet to silence it, a sound scratches at the back of Vendra's skull and spreads the sooner she realizes it:

_Vendra...Vendra. _Vendra!

Her eyes shoot open, dart to the the wall behind her, blank with concrete._ He_ sounds so close, she _knows_ he's here. But that's impossible; all of the Nethers were pulled back into the Netherverse. There's no way he's in her head...Her hands quiver in her lap.

Vendra, koo madap apdo guchri koom yushu...

"So you decided to leave me with a little parting gift: telepathy?" she whispers, sitting up on her bed.

Koom gaprofrush haktrah prog subfrush enagori.

"'Sacrifice'? For consuming the powers _you_ gave _me?" _She shakes her head. "How like you."

Apdo taghmi koob, Netherva domegu banen tor.

"What are you talking about?! _You_ betrayed _me!" _She stands, her eyes to the ceiling, the back wall. "You promised me a new life. You promised me we'd be _friends!_"

The creature only grumbles wordlessly.

"What are you planning, Mr. Eye?"

Koom aktram vom apdo...

"Your return...in me?"

Anjo...rababo...shringafu... Sengri pahn apdo hub?

"_No, _just..." She felt anger and rage upon arriving here, but she didn't think it would matter to him. "Get out of my mind. You have no right to speak to me."

Koom aktram...

"Stop..."

...vom apdo...

"Shut up...!" Her eyes squeeze shut.

AKTRAM...KOOM AKTRAM!

"LEAVE!" she screams to the ceiling.

"Now, that's not very nice. Must we start this journey hating each other?"

Vendra gasps loudly and spins around. Standing in front of her cell is a green-skinned man no taller than she, with brown eyes and hair, an overgrown moustache, a suit and a brooch. He looks like he could slip through the bars with how lean he is. Without question, she knows he works with Polaris' legal system, slight nostalgia making her head spin. She has seen court six months ago, but...What now? Why is he...smiling?

"It's nice to meet the criminal responsible for the life I now live."

One of Vendra's eyebrows raise. She tilts her head, silently requesting elaboration.

"It took me years, but I was finally able to get connections to my past. After aimlessly leafing through thousands of could-be anscestors and cooincidences, I accessed the IRIS Supercomputer a year ago. I spoke with it for hours and it told me the names of who I can only _think_ to be my parents...taken away from me by a sudden Alpha Nine evacuation. Six months later, when you're arrested for kidnapping Terachnoids, I discover that you and your brother made my parents disappear. And that about twenty years ago, you were lurking in Weeblesnog City at the remainder of Mayor Gumblebrick's term. Name ring a bell?"

The choppy tone in his voice annoys her. She grumbles, "Yes, it does, and I was there. What's your point?"

"Good," he says, ignoring her question. "Because he is my father."

His facade finally falters into one stricken with betrayal. Vendra's mouth gapes in surprise. This man - a boy two decades ago, probably - was on Silox during the evacuation, and had apparently escaped. There were thousands of children evacuated, namely Planet Yerek. Planet Silox was a gullible civilization, with a lazy legislature; it was effortless to convince its people it was haunted by ghosts and demons.

_"The city's been abandoned for decades, we saw to that."_ Could he be a witness siding against her? Were there others remaining of the mess not thoroughly cleaned up?

"What did you say?" Vendra practically whispers.

"Yes, apparently when you were clearing out the entire sector, _some_ people were clinging to not only their lives, but the lives of others. My father wanted the population cleared safely for the sake of voters. He knew how to be nothing else but mayor. Couldn't even spare time to be a _parent. _Because my mother, due to give birth to me any day, decided to give me up for adoption. Funny, right? Well, she had no choice. No time to weigh her options - too many bodies scrambling to escape a haunted world. Planet Endako in the Bogon galaxy was where she thought I'd grow up safe, healthy, and strong. Once old enough to support myself, I grew up to be a lot like you: selfish, greedy, and innovative. Thought no one was good for me until I met my colleagues. Kept every bolt in my name hidden until I decided to engage in intergalactic travel. Desperate, but not senseless, to go to college to become a historian to learn about the family I never knew, yet I abrogated it to study the criminal mind, and how I could dissect it and perhaps justify it...

"Now, why am I telling you this? Because I, Darks Gumblebrick, _your_ criminal defense attorney, am just like you, Vendra Prog. I, too, want to find my family. Although what you did cost me my kinship, I like your will, and I want to draw from it like a river."

Vendra can see longing in the dark brown eyes severed by the prison bars. Her lips are tight as she doesn't speak. So, he was an infant when it happened. No real memories, only facts from the guileless Supercomputer. Despite the title of criminal defense attorney and being on her side, he's still a witness she should get rid of before he can betray her.

"You were left without any last words to your Nether leader. Would you like to hear him apologize in person, or continue to imagine it in your head? All I need is your cooperation. If you trust me, I will do everything in my power to set you and your brother free..."

As if punctuating his words, the cell door slides loudly open.

Once she and Nef are freed, then she'll kill him.

* * *

_chapter 2_

"I haven't seen you this close since I tried to blow you up. How've you been, Ratchet?"

Vendra says that as if it's been weeks, not hours, since we last interacted. I look up to her smirking at me. Now that I'm sitting across from her, I can see that we're about the same height. She may get as much leverage with her hair as I can with my ears, but cut those out, and we're level. I hesitantly drum my fingers against the white table, where above are rows of bright white lights that make a slight halo around Vendra's jumpsuit.

The nostalgia and my pride prevent me from answering her question right away. Vendra still dons her prisoner identification, 9971, and her orange jumpsuit and ungloved hands remind me where she really is. Incarcerated somewhere that's heavily secure, ground level, and not exploding.

My wandering eyes find that the cuffs left obvious and unsightly bruises around her wrists. They're about as bright and hot as the light that begins to make me sweat. I justify that as to why I'm trembling, my hand chattering against the table.

Her hand crawls like a spider toward mine, her long fingers freezing over my knuckles through my gloves. She isn't sympathizing me; I'm not stupid as to think that. My despondence seems like the answer she seeks, and can sense through touch. I slide my hand from the short table into my lap before her fingers can warm or even comfort me.

My shame (and something else I can't place) is too evident with my sweating, shaking, averted eyes and heavy ears. I watched an inferno engulf my friends to charred shreds. I watched Talwyn's face break into a vortex of emotion when I told her I'd talk to Vendra instead of her.

_"Why?" she'd asked, her voice unnaturally quiet. She'd found it again when her fingers clutched my forearm. "You're not going near her yourself, Ratchet!"_

_"This has nothing to do with how dangerous she can be!" I'd said louder than I'd intended. "I'm going."_

_"You promised me, Ratchet." She let me go slowly. "Back at the museum, you said that those answers were something I could ask for."_

_"That was before I knew...I knew we were even doing this now!" It was in that moment that the mahogany hallway seemed dull, the narrow walls suffocating, the door at the short end like a mile walk and leading to a deep coldness that I wouldn't be able to rise up from quickly. I surmised that the shock of all this made me yell, which was unnatural for me as well. "Now that we are, I'm not sure it's the right thing."_

_"Why not?!" Talwyn threw her arms up, her eyebrows just as high. _

_"On the Nebulox, I could've reasoned with Vendra - I could've talked her out of setting off the blaster mines in the ship and spared Cronk and Zephyr's lives! I need to say what I should've told her then."_

_"But if you all died, then what?! I'd be right here anyway, so why won't you let me talk to her?!"_

_"Because you weren't there!" Talwyn had stepped back at the force of my words, or maybe it was my words themselves. Her lips parted and quivered, and she held onto her elbows tightly and stared down. I looked away as I continued. "Look, I just...couldn't wrap my head around anything after the ship exploded, and it took Clank to snap me out of it and leap for our lives. I want Vendra to know how that made me feel, so she can see what she took away from us. You understand now?"_

_Talwyn stepped in front of me and looked ready to hit me, but instead, her hands fell to my shoulders and shook me a little. I didn't turn away from her intense blue eyes that looked slightly red._

_"When you get out of there, I want to hear the truth, word for word. Promise me."_

_As I was about to answer, a guard cleared his throat for Talwyn's attention. She turned, removing one hand from me, and replied._

_The guard, with shifting eyes, told her, "If you want to listen to their conversation, we're recording in this room-" he pointed a thumb toward a steel door labeled RECORDING- "if you'd like. Just...don't touch anything." As soon as he finished speaking, he disappeared back into the room._

_Before Talwyn turned to follow, I took hold of her fingers in my hand. She wasn't facing me, and I didn't expect her to. My eyes stared at her profile, her bottom lip chewed and her eyes blinking rapidly._

_"Even if you couldn't listen in there, you know I'd tell you everything, right, Tal?" I asked her lowly, a tender voice I rarely used, even with Clank._

_She only nodded, breaking from my hold and entering the advised room quickly._

_I slid my back down the polished brown wall, now about the height of Clank, who I felt pat my shoulder as I put my head against my knees._

_"I shouldn't have yelled at her like that..." I lifted my head and half-expected a lecture from Clank._

_"Miss Apogee is not weak-hearted," Clank assured me. "Even though you did break your promise to her, Ratchet. I honestly believe she could have gotten the answers she sought from Vendra herself, but-" he added quickly before I could curl tighter guiltily - "I do see your reasons for wanting to go instead. Vendra relates to you in ways I am sure Talwyn will not understand without explanation."_

_I only sighed, my voice sapped and tactless._

_"You may know this, but, Vendra was not truly evil. I believe she may have been more misguided than anything. There was a change in her when she was thrown into the Netherverse. She was a different person in there...more...approachable."_

_"I'll...keep that in mind. Thanks, Clank." I stood up, my ears perking with some confidence. "Wish me luck, huh?"_

_I patted Clank on the head affectionately and journeyed down the hall._

I just couldn't have Talwyn asking these burning questions I have for Vendra. Since losing Cronk and Zephyr was something I witnessed, I should resurface it.

"How 'bout a different question," she says at my silence. "Why are you interrogating me?"_  
_

This is the only question _I'll _allow her to ask before I string mine. With a silent inhale, I find my voice and speak honestly.

"Because I want to see the good in you."

Her head turns to the side, her hand over her mouth as she laughs, boisterous and disbelieving.

"Well, I wanna see where it went," I add defensively. She snickers, and I suppress a growl and the urge to stand and get in her face. "This isn't funny, Vendra. You killed my friends, and I'm not letting you leave until I find out why."

"Oh, you _fool_!" she drawls. "You want to extract the evil from me, hero? Imprisoning me mustn't be enough for you."

"Which is why I'm here."

I want her focus, which is why I don't regret what I'm doing now: I return her gesture but completely take her hand in mine. It feels like it's pumping icy blood, stealing the warmth through my glove. Her smirk disappears, her eyebrows lift and she blinks, her lips parting to show her sharp teeth. She looks almost bashful, and that's the idea. I want her as vulnerable as possible. It takes some willpower not to smirk right here, but I keep the priority on the surface.

"Were you ever able to explain to Neftin exactly why you needed Mr. Eye as your friend? Or did you leave that to your holo-diaries?"

It looks like I hit a nerve as Vendra's fingers twitch above mine. She shakes her head, which probably answers my first question.

"At one point, I had the same ambition as you, and I'd only kept it to myself. I'm willing to open up to you about it...if you do the same."

"The story of your cowardice...and my bitterness...it's intriguing, so...let's do it." Her hand slips from mine, and it warms up again.

I lean forward in my seat and prop my elbows on the table. "The details of my journeys over the past three years aren't important to you, so, I'll be jumping around a bit. I was fine with leaving my life as is, but then Clank went missing. I wanted to know the origins of my past again. I was close to convincing myself that my friends would be fine without me, and that I'd abandon Clank to repair the Dimensionator to find the Lombaxes instead. Because without Clank, I'd thought, I wasn't home, and I needed to find it. Cronk and Zephyr found me with the device, took it by Talwyn's order, and she slapped me. I hardly knew her, and her lecturing threw me for a loop. I then remembered she was searching for her father and would condemn anyone that would squander ambitions the way I was. The search for my kind was pushed aside for Clank.

"About a year later, I met a Lombax named Alister Azimuth. At first, he thought I was an impostor, but he hadn't seen another Lombax since they disappeared either. He was fascinated by my life as I'd told him, thinking how different things would've been if he'd found me sooner. He knew so much more about hobbies and lifestyles of my kind that mirrored mine but were less...solitary. The only living, breathing Lombax I ever got to know...died too soon. I fled from this galaxy and the the idea of finding the Lombaxes if it meant any one I'd meet could disappear or die. So yeah, I guess I did become scared.

"Finding my race wasn't brought up again until you came in. The whole 'only-one-of-your-kind-living-here' story related back to me on the media multiple times, and that's when I'm sure you and Neftin heard of me way before you were arrested. The stories of how I defeated Nefarious with nothing but a Sonic Eruptor didn't phase you, but the ones of me banishing my quest for my kind did. I think my friends, some that I've lost along the way, have stuck around to hold me here. As long as I have them, I think I'll manage. So...story of my cowardice."

Vendra's hands flutter together in a small applause. "_Great_ story." She returns to trying to see through to me, even after my explanation. "I can tell what you're thinking: was your friends' deaths done to reinstate your decision to find your race?" She shakes her head, lifting a wrist and examining the bruise. "Not quite."

"It's your turn." _I''ll get that answer, way down from inside you._ "Start with your childhood. You know, how everyone picked on you, ignored your pleas for help, the feeling of being an outcast? Lemme tell ya: been there, done that."

She has no choice but to answer; I've cut pretty deep, even turning the knife to myself. Her eyes grow big, and she stares at the table, recalling. A little Lombax endured the same thing once, twice, countless times.

"My first memory is of Nef and me shivering in some dark, abandoned caves. We shared a baby blanket and were crying, and before long, we were rescued by the Guardian of Meero Orphanage. I thought we'd found a home there, but it turned out to be more of a sham. The teachers and caretakers did the bare minimum overseeing the children, sending them to detention to get rid of them. All of them volunteered without pay, so the turnover rate was always high. Of course, as a kid, I knew none of this. I always thought they were just being mean to us. And the kids were even worse. They never played with me, pulled my hair, called me a freak. More than once I was thrown into the mud and told to change my pasty white skin. Almost pushed off the sides of Meero Cliffs. Since Nef was getting picked on, too, telling him got me nowhere. He and I looked a lot alike back then, short and scrawny. Not a single day went by without some form of harassment. I'd gotten so angry that I've beaten a kid until his face bled, pushed another through old, dusty glass, and intentionally pushed a third off a cliff. He survived."

Vendra sees my widened eyes soften a bit. "They made you that angry? Come on, I'm sure your days weren't _all _that bad..." But in saying this, I was only trying to convince my younger self.

"I preferred it because, whenever I'd return to that surface of an orphanage, I'd just get angrier. The caretakers knew of my origins, knew where we'd been found as an infants, and kept it from me. Kept me from my past, my true self. They usurped me from my kind. So I thought to get revenge. Have Mr. Eye by my side to scare those bullies away from me, exemplify my pride to my race to those ignorant teachers. Neftin didn't see why right away, even as I showed him my findings. I suppose...he never fully understood the craving for affection I had. He thought the victim was the only role he and I were supposed to play. I needed to know there was someone besides him who cared about our existence."

I fold my hands over my mouth and listen still. "Most of the time I ignored the teasing, tolerated it when I couldn't, and used detention to escape," she continues. "Escape the vile treatment before I ended up killing someone. That's when I began keeping a holo-diary. I wanted to see if the bullying would recede and record my turn-around days in the orphanage. It was that same day I returned to the caves, and met _him._

"When I wasn't in detention, I'd run off back to our room to draw. One of my crayons slipped beneath the floorboards, and uprooted them to retrieve it. I heard a hollow wind. Caves beneath the orphanage. I didn't know what else I'd find, but I wandered into them optimistically. It was quite a drop down, but I figured I'd just climb back after I'd investigated. My childish mind still hunted for that crayon, and I asked the strange, ghostly creatures if they'd seen it. I wasn't afraid, but intrigued, especially when they seemed to understand me. They lead me to a wall with bright purple cracks running through it. A few of them slipped in simultaneously, breaking the wall down. In the middle of stalagmite fluid was my crayon. The wall in front of the puddle suddenly blinked, and I screamed. A large purple eye began speaking to me in a language I surprisingly understood. _'Don't be afraid,' _it said, _'Are you lost? It's a first, seeing a Nether beyond the crossing.' _I asked him what he meant, and he told me it didn't matter, because he seemed to have found a friend in me. He liked my smile, my voice, everything about me. Nothing was flawed to him. I was just an ordinary girl. That night, I gave him his name, Mr. Eye, and every day since, I slipped from the surveillance of the orphanage to talk to him."

Vendra carries a face of longing when she finishes, and I clearly see her burning desire to bring Mr. Eye into our world. Someone else, like she said, who cared about their existence. To give at least one damn about a lost race. It blatantly reminds me of myself, when Alister convinced me to reverse time to bring my parents back. To revive my innovative race to take pride in. It took Clank, my present, to pull me back down. I wonder if - and if not, why wasn't - Neftin was that for Vendra.

"And you never suspected any ulterior motive?" I ask, remembering Mr. Eye cared for Vendra as a pawn, not as a person.

She shakes her head. "Mr. Eye told me he'd take care of Nef and me once we separated him from the Netherverse. He said we'd be together like a family. I wanted that enough to do it. I thought we'd be able to find him a home-"

_For that giant thing?_ I think impulsively.

"-and in return, he'd give me protective armor to visit the Netherverse..."

"And...see your parents?" I offer.

"I didn't want _closure_," she snaps. "I needed to explore my home world. If I ever got the chance to meet my parents, I'd kill them."

"For abandoning you. Not to ask why they made that sacrifice?" I say instead of _choice, _which usually causes a reconsideration for anger. Her bluntness doesn't surprise me, however.

"That would be my only reason for ever returning there now."

I don't ask her if she thinks they're still alive, or if she'd return for other reasons. Instead, I mentally check off that anger seems to fuel any murderous desire, and move on. Before she can take the anger out on me.

"Tell me about your first trial, Vendra."

The gears, the setting, shift, so it takes Vendra a moment to recall the events that were not six months ago to her prior knowledge.

"The only thing I knew for sure was that I was on Planet Terachnos, even after assaulting Pollyx Industries. I remember the high glass ceiling of the courtroom. It was cold. Let me out, I'd said, I don't belong here. I was disoriented. A Mag-Net was used to capture and arrest me, and I'd been blacked out sometime after. By the trial, I couldn't tell how much time had passed. I started convulsing right there in the room, and I started screaming for my brother. I spent about an hour in solitary before they brought me back out. The trial went on quickly. I had no alibi against hundreds of Terachnoid witnesses. Those geeks sentenced me quintuple life on just _kidnapping_." She pauses. "And arson, and assault."

"Why was it necessary to induce you with cryosleep?"

"When I convulsed, I felt scared and lonely. My powers went out of whack. I literally lifted the whole courthouse from its foundation."

So fear makes her lose control of her powers. I recall the Nebulox takeover. Arrogance increases it, I guess.

Vendra looks at both her palms and shuts them. "I guess the media covered that part up."

I guess they did; all I heard during the news of Vendra's sentencing was the chance to break in the Nebulox Seven recently operational. Since then, Polaris Defense had meeting after grueling meeting about "somehow getting involved" with capturing Neftin, who'd escaped with Pollyx as his hostage. Most of the senior staff- including Talwyn, Cronk, Zephyr, and Qwark - travelled across main sectors of the Polaris galaxy to publically ease minds and repeat that Polaris Defense would live up to its reputation of...defense. After Clank and I somehow got stuck in a meeting titled "Why Polaris's Galactic Rangers Suck"- in which our PD supervisor gave everyone a swearing earful - and the group returned, I practically begged Talwyn to bump us up. Mainly why, six months later, we were on the team as prison escorts.

"Neftin told me that I'd been in cryosleep since my sentencing, so since then, I'd been on the Nebulox Seven?" Vendra asks, my thoughts returning.

"As part of your quintuple life sentence, you were to be transported from prison ship to prison ship in classified areas of the galaxy," I confirm. "A transfer's scheduled every six months; you spend half a year in sleep isolation, the other half among prisoners. Before the mark, the search was on for escort volunteers. Thinking it'd be simple, I raised my hand. So did Clank, Cronk, and Zephyr. Other members of Polaris Defense got involved to ensure our safe return. It took a while just turning the ship around and setting course to Vartax, but once the work was turned over, the production of another prison ship, with new volunteers, would've been made just for you."

Vendra rests a hand underneath her chin. I hardly move a muscle. It's been about fifteen minutes. We're _just _getting started.

"Don't you think I could've easily escaped, with me being awake?" she asks coyly. "After all, _you_ busted yourself out of Vartax."

"_Cronk and Zephyr_ busted me out," I correct her, jabbing a finger against the table. "Without them, three months would've turned into thirty years."

Vendra leans up with a scowl. "You keep mentioning them like they're gonna somehow pop up out of _nowhere_."

She has the nerve to sound _annoyed _by that! I feel a boiling heat in my gut, and I clench and unclench my fist that longs for the wrench I wasn't allowed to bring in. I'm done trying to analyze Vendra. I thought her past would help me see what she'd become in hopes to reevaluating, but she doesn't seem to show any remorse at all. Whoever Clank saw in the Netherverse is not the Vendra in front of me.

"Why did you and Neftin kill my friends?" I ask upfront.

"I like to steal, Ratchet. And killing is just the priciple of the thing. And I'm not sorry, simply because you were better off without them. They were _expendable,_" she answers bluntly. "Seriously, Ratchet. I was practically doing you a favor."

_Expendable. _The word rings in my large ears and makes them twitch. That means useless. Made to be thrown away. _Scrap_. My gut tightens, and my head begins to shake on its own.

"You..._You_..."

"There's your answer Neftin kept babbling I should give. So are we finished here?"

I don't move, a seething glare on my face and a growl tickling the back of my throat.

"Let me ask you, Ratchet. Did you really think turning ourselves in would be the last step? Or you that oblivious that criminals get their voices heard, too?"

"What are you saying, Vendra?" Venom passes and deepens my voice.

"Just like what happened six months ago, Nef's and my actions are going to court. This time it's in the hand of Polaris's capital, with a new set of rules. You're gonna see quite a turn-around there. Like the fact that your dear friends are _not _murder victims, but _scrap_. Or the fact that some charges should be lessened because we _saved _this naive city from a Nether invasion. What say you to that?"

"How dare you...?"

That phrase was etched in the back of my mind, but someone beat me to it. I turn my head to the door sliding closed behind-

"Tal...?" I freeze in my seat.

"You killed my friends and show not an ounce of remorse...You really are a cold, empty shell."

Talwyn steps from the shadows in quick strides. The light makes the whites of her angry eyes and teeth flash. She stands by the side of the table between where Vendra and I sit, glaring down at the fearless Nether.

"I'll ask you this time." Talwyn bends her body to level her face with Vendra's. "_Why _did you kill Cronk and Zephyr?"

Vendra turns to Talwyn in kind, smirking. "Hmm, a good question. Will you break if I tell you?"

"Talwyn...I-I've got this," I mediate. "Just go back in the other room-"

Suddenly, it feels like someone is yanking my chair back against the wall behind me forcefully. I slam back, stunned, and I look up to a blanket of pink in front of me. Behind the field, I see Vendra's head drop to the tabletop, a hand rubbing her temple. There was the arrogance, right before I spoke. Despite my theory, I know somehow, Vendra's powers are returning.

I'm back on the Nebulox, speechless and trapped, as something bad happens.

Someone else is coming in now, not as frantically as I thought they would. The shortest one here.

"Clank!" I shout for him.

My best friend runs to me, ignored by Talwyn and Vendra. I really don't know what's going on, and I hope just a little "Clank logic" can help. He stops just outside the forcefield, a questioning look of whether or not it's ideal to touch.

"Are you alright, Ratchet?" he mutters, as if I'm behind bars.

"I'm fine." I grin a little at the worrywart. "Just stunned. What's wrong with Tal?"

"When she heard Vendra say they were expendable, Talwyn snapped..." Clank explains, glancing back towards them. "I was a bit worried that could happen."

"I want to hear you say that again," seethes Talwyn. She's trembling with balled fists at her sides.

Vendra still looks like she's getting herself together after one usage, looking disoriented, and swats her hand randomly. Since Talwyn's face was in the way of Vendra's imaginary target, she's struck.

Talwyn's cry is more of a growl as she stumbles to her right, and when she straightens herself, she's heated. Her face grows red, and she shoves Vendra out of her chair. "Don't _touch_ me!" she screeches.

Vendra falls like a broken doll, unresisting to gravity. For a moment, she appears unconscious, but, after a heavy silence, a sigh billows from the floor like an ancient steam engine, as dense as fog. She slowly wobbles to her feet with the support of the side wall. Other than her strange set of mind, she appears unharmed.

It's creeping me out.

"Expendable, huh?" Talwyn muses, her hands flat on the table. "What about all your Thugs we brought here? What about _all_ organics, huh?!"

Vendra stands, silent, her eyes closed.

"How could you even say that? Just because they're not someone you can play with, you feel like just killing whoever you want?!" Talwyn waits a moment for a reply, pressing her body forward in anger. "Answer me, Vendra! You killed my friends, my _family_! They took care of me when I was young, especially when my father disappeared!"

It's wierd, but at Vendra's silence, I can hear something, an almost grating sound. When I listen closer - it doesn't seem like Clank can hear it - I hear words in an unfamiliar language. I'm sure of that.

How the hell am I hearing Mr. Eye?

I don't know what to make of it, don't know if I should provide some kind of warning.

Talwyn repeats Vendra's name in a warning tone, and in a snap, Vendra approaches Talwyn, cutting off the last syllable as she coils her hands around Talwyn's neck.

It's an alarming, yet almost awkward view, since Talwyn is a few inches taller than Vendra and myself. The Nether girl stands on her toes and lightly totters in a lazy semicircle holding my friend's breath. This is the complete opposite of Talwyn's pretension of choking to death in deep space. This is exactly why I didn't laugh. I'd jinxed it in my mind. The most alarming sight I see is the illusion of long, sharp, purple fingers largely gripping her neck instead of Vendra's pale, bruised hands. Talwyn's seem to slip through the illusion in attempt to wrench the ones she _can_ see and feel.

Am I the only one seeing this?

When her attempts aren't enough, Talwyn fumbles with her belt, reaches for a certain holder, takes out a _Constructo Pistol_, and fires it into Vendra's chest.

What happened as soon as I'd opened my mouth left me that way.

Vendra's forcefield drops, and so does Vendra and Talwyn's gun. I run up to see Vendra's blood, a shiny red-purple ooze, streaming from her mouth and spreading in her jumpsuit; her gasping, convulsing form (I almost wait for the building to lift from the ground); Clank, who's silent with a face I know wouldn't judge Talwyn nor Vendra; turn to Talwyn, whose hands are over her mouth, eyes huge and color drained from her face, her knees knocking until she crumbles next to her gun, her eyes never leaving her target. Talwyn never misses. Her face tells me otherwise.

"H-H-How _DARE YOU?!_ " Vendra's scream falls from her mouth like her tongue is hanging out. She clutches her chest with bloody hands and leers at Talwyn like she broke her heart. Her probably shot heart.

Guards come in and I'm unsure if they're aiming and Talwyn or Vendra or both. The sounds registering for a few moments are safetys pulled back, and Vendra choking on her own blood.

"We have a policy against violators who uses a gun. Most common punishment is a bullet in 'em themselves," says the novice guard who'd stopped me earlier this afternoon. He unabashedly aims his gun at Talwyn.

"You are not." I block her from his gun, disappointed that all the guards appear to be allowing this, or worse, considering it themselves. "Over my dead body you are not." What kind of penitentiary is this?

"He doesn't remember that rule was abolished over ten years ago," says the guard beside him, pushing the novice back. "But we do have to keep both these ladies."

I glance back at Talwyn, trying to look as reassuring as possible, but I'm too shaken.

Various murmurs fill the room as I'm moved aside as one guard takes Talwyn by a wrist, and two more haul Vendra like there's an invisible stretcher beneath her:

"Get her in the infirmary, but dress it quietly..."

"Don't you think she'll scream?"

"You _really_ should've put that gun away..."

"Where's she gonna be?"

"Say she wanted to wait overnight to speak with the other twin, and changes her mind in the morning."

"_Most_ importantly, keep this from the chief."

Clank and I are left behind a closed door, two awkward chairs, a circle of blood, and Talwyn's gun.

How I'm gonna say good night to today...I have no clue.

* * *

A/N

WHOO LAWD! I finally finished this thing! Took me forfreakingever. New ideas and suggestions sprouted a change in this chapter entirely, and I amazed myself with the turnout.

I know it was a long read, but thanks for the patience. This might be the only chapter I publish in a while, so embrace it! I'm starting college again in August. Chapter 3 is predicted to be shorter, not nearly as long as this.

Thank you EVERYONE who reviewed or even hit my story. The continued support for my second only multichap delight me. I enjoy reading your reviews.

*The idea that Neftin got his body from an accidental experimentation Vendra deployed is NOT mine; it's a head-canon that belongs to **gameloverx** with permission. Check out her related fic, "Cybernetic" in-progress/more to come! _She _deserves it!

I update the status on the incoming chapters on my profile, so use that to determine updates! :)


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